Rest, listen, look and see

Resting, that's it. Only at rest can you look at
and feel the nature surging around you,
the enduring roads, the hills
with the stooped chestnuts, the trees of your childhood,
a reminder of your youth, long gone in the shadows,
lost in the songs of the wind or uphill,
on a winding path.

Listen to the splashing water and watch,
how it darkens, so slowly,
trembling in the swaying dusk,
and observe, how the hanging lantern
quietly swings through the endless twilight
in the breath of the fading hours.

Feel how the room embraces the dark
with increasing passion,
as the chairs slide deeper into invisibility,
how the beds collide and the headboards groan,
as if the sphere around them was moving
towards the high walls, the heavy arch of the entrance,
the walnut furniture, and the table.

See how slowly all things are dwarfed,
how in the darkness the burning love invades,
and the price you pay, so startled upon awakening,
because in your dream you died.

Go, rest in this chair, sit comfortably, be aware,
how the murmur of the forest is fading,
how a last birdcall falls silent,
how through the crack of the windowpane
the wind is still moaning.

Absolutely in awe of this. Definitely reading it again. I'd love to hear this recited! If you haven't yet heard of Keaton Henson, please do look up for his poems. They have a similar rhythm to yours. P.S. He's a heartbreakingly beautiful singer as well 💙 2018-08-09

Beautifully articulated, with so much luminous specificity. Thank you for posting this poem! 2018-08-08

one trick pony
What a gentle, inviting poem. The penultimate stanza is unsettling, but even that is quietly resolved in the last stanza.

This is almost a meditation.

I'll bookmark this, I can imagine reading it to slow things down a bit. Thank you. 2018-08-08